


Painless. Fearless. Reckless.

by Melas



Series: PFR Series. [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alcohol, Curious Reader, Explicit Language, Friends don't let friends be stupid alone, Gen, Good!Bendy, Henry wishes he never met any of you, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, More characters added when they show up, Multi, Reader can't feel fear, Teenagers, Truth or Dare, gone wrong, her friends are just trying to keep her alive, or pain, teenagers being stupid teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melas/pseuds/Melas
Summary: What do you get when you mix one drunk college student on a mission to complete a dare, a girl who can’t feel fear, and young man who just really wishes he never left the house?Bad decisions for days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, real quick. There is sort of a prequel I'm writing along side this story about Henry's life called "The Life and Times of Henry." It's not required to read to understand this, because they are both being written at the same time. It's just there to give my little head cannon on Henry.
> 
> I have this story pretty much mapped out in my head, just got to get it down.
> 
> I'm going to try my best to make sure that the Reader is not OP or Mary-Sueish. I'm giving her flaws to try to even out her inability to feel both fear and pain.
> 
> Yes, I am using two characters I used in another, unrelated fic. The two fics do not correlate, I just like my characters and I'm to lazy to create to totally new ones when I want the same personalities.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Prologue**

“The Powers That Be” tended to flip-flop on what kind of hand you should be dealt with. Sometimes the cards they gave you were a blessing; loving and caring parents, good friends, no financial issues, artistic talent, and passing grades. Life would be great, if _The Powers that-just-won’t-leave-you-the-fuck Be_ didn’t turn around and give you a rotten hand; such as your health.

Your body was pretty much in good condition. No failing organs, no abnormal cell growth, nothing truly hospital worthy, but that could change at the turn of a dime.

See, you were born with the inability to feel, or more correctly react appropriately, to pain. Pressure could be felt, so could temperature, but you didn’t _react_ like you should. You didn’t cry, you didn’t flinched, you didn’t do anything. In fact, you never could tell when something painful happened to you.

The doctors said you had congenital insensitivity to pain, or CIP for short. This lead to you parents being overly attentive and concerned for you well being. They were always worried you would be one of the people who died in childhood because of your condition. Especially after that one time you fell out of a tree and walked away with broken ribs, and some pretty severe gashes, without knowing anything was wrong with you.

And your health issues didn’t end there.

It was sometime around your seventh birthday when your second “issue” was discovered. It was amazing that it was found out at all, since you didn’t experience many of it’s physical symptoms, and what you did could be easily mistaken for your constant mishaps with your CIPs.

You were just going in for a CT scan to see if you had fractured your skull in your latest incident when an eagle-eyed technician spotted something rare. Or, well, even _rarer_ than CIP.

Calcification centered around your medial temporal lobes. Closer examination showed that your amygdala was utterly destroyed. Tests showed that while you still experienced most emotions you could no longer feel fear.

You were fearless and could not feel pain.

And for a child, for anyone really, that was _dangerous_ to your wellbeing.

Your friends and family got even more protective of you after that diagnosis.

This lead to your parents deciding it would be best to be brutally honest with you when teaching you about the world, and to not sugar coat anything for you. Despite how much it hurt them they figured it was better to have you worried, which was the closest to fear that you could get, and vigilant than naive and careless.

It was repeatedly drilled into your head what was considered “good” and “bad.”

  1. You shouldn’t go up to hug random strangers without someone you knew, because you never know if that person will use you the way no child should. No matter if they offered you candy or pleas to help find their lost dog. Doing that is “bad.”  

  2. If someone points some kind of weapon at you or a loved one that is bad and it would be best to get away as fast as you can, and don’t forget to call the cops because you wouldn’t want that to happen to someone you knew, they, or you, could be killed! And that would make mommy and daddy very sad. Which would “bad.”  

  3. If there is anything going through your skin it’s more than likely “bad” and should be dealt with accordingly.  

  4. Blood oozing for more than fifteen seconds is more than likely “bad” and should be dealt with accordingly.  

  5. No matter how interesting or cute any creature is, stay a good distance away. They may try to hurt you and no one would be able to get you to a hospital in time. Also “bad.”  

  6. No matter how much someone bugs you don’t take the drugs or drink they offer, you have enough problems to worry about. Doing so is “bad.”  

  7. Going anywhere alone is “bad,” because the world is mean to girls who go to places alone.  

  8. If you don’t know if something is “good” or “bad” call the people in your contacts, they’ll set you right. If they can not be reached call 9-1-1 and explain your situation.



Your parents even helped you remember the types of faces people make when scared, uncomfortable, or in pain, which helped you out a lot when it came to figuring out social cues. You weren’t up to par to most people, but you were good enough to function in most settings. And if you tripped up, that’s what your friends were for.

Devon and Ryan, your childhood friends who took it upon themselves to help you not kill yourself. They both understood that you couldn’t truly comprehend some things, no matter how hard you tried, and you were forever thankful for them. You’re certain that if they weren’t in your life to prevent you from doing something “not good,” you’d probably be dead by now.

They, and your parents, all helped you survive to your current age of twenty, almost twenty-one.

You were in college now, had been for almost four years, alongside your two friends. The three of you had decided upon the same school, one that would suite all of you, and, with some help from your and Ryan’s parents, were renting a decent sized house nearby.

That was a good thing that was dealt you, the fact the your mother was a high-profile defense attorney, and that she was more than willing to lend you three money for a house until you all could get decent jobs.

Ryan’s parents would help when they could, but they needed the money more often than not. Devon’s parents, on the other hand, refused to help their son in any way, shape, or form as long as he continued to hang out with his “hellbound” friends.

Devon’s parents were against the idea of their son living with a women he wasn’t married to, especially one with your….. _abnormalities_ , and with a guy whose “sinned” as much as Ryan has. It was a good thing Devon was old enough to make his own decisions concerning where he lived.

The three of you found it hilarious how many people believed you were sleeping together in some kind of polyamorous relationship.

Well, you and Ryan did, Devon found it a nuisance seeing as any girl he went after either didn’t want to chance the rumors being true or hoped that they were.

You were just good friends who decided it was easier to function as adults together than alone. Nothing more, nothing less, but it seemed not many people were inclined to believe any of you.

Despite everything, your life was good. It just came with a few extra hardships, but that’s what made everything interesting.

And then Life, The Powers That Be, or whatever you want to call them decided to throw another curve ball at you in the form of a dare.

You never should of left home.


	2. Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all began with a dare. A stupid dare made by stupid college kids at an equally as stupid party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick. This is the set up chapter to get you to the studio, so bare with me please. You'll be at the studio next chapter.
> 
> Note, Ryan is supposed to be drunk, so I tried to make it seem like his speech is slurred. Devon has..... some kind of accent. Devon is based off a friend of mine, and Real Life!Devon speaks like Fiction!Devon. RL!Devon has, like, some odd blend of a southern and Boston accent, I think. I don't think his accent can be classified. But I shouldn't talk. Apparently I have a French/British/Scottish accent, and I was born in Colorado! 
> 
> Anyways!
> 
> Thank you to everyone whose left a comment, checked out the story, or left a kudo!
> 
> Enjoy, and remember the story (should) picks up next chapter.

**Chapter 1- Dare**

It all began with a dare. A stupid dare made by stupid college kids at an equally as stupid party.

And you were just _stupid_ enough to allow Ryan to take it.

You weren’t even drunk! Why did you go along with it!?

Well, at least you weren’t alone….

It was a Friday night when your roommate, Ryan, dragged you and your other roommate, Devon, to a party at some frat house. Usually you and Devon refused to go to such places, seeing as those type of things just weren’t your scene. Plus, on those rare occasions when you did decide to go to out, it was almost a guarantee someone would make a lewd comment about you living with two dudes and they would usually always ask if they could ever join in.

It wasn’t even like that! You trusted Ryan and Devon, loved them as brothers, and you knew them since elementary school. You all were just good friends who decided to live together to alleviate the cost of living as true adults.

Better to live together and suffer together then to suffer and struggle alone, was your logic.

And it was working out pretty well. The only downsides were Ryan’s drinking and partying, Devon bringing home all types of bugs and plants, and your excessive buying of art supplies. At least Ryan didn’t bring his vices home, Devon kept his stuff in his room, and you all made sure you could still help with the bills. Bills none of you _truly_ had to worry about, due to your parents paying them, but still tried to help with nonetheless. None of you were comfortable being moochers.

That brings you to your current situation.

It had been a very stressful couple of weeks full of exams, working, and just general attempts at trying to be real adults. Ryan believed you all needed to relax, and what better why than to go to an end of exam party?

You and Devon just looked at each other, both thinking of several hundred things that would be more relaxing than a party, but in the end you both relented and got ready to go out, to the delight of your shaggy-haired friend.

It took less then ten minutes for you to get ready. You didn’t care enough to change out of your outfit that consisted of a t-shirt, jeans, and an old pair of converses. Grabbing your favourite shoulder bag, you collected several items your father gave you the day you left for college; a can of police grade pepper spray, a pocket sized first aid kit, and a portable charger.

Once in you bag you looked around your room, debating if you needed anything else before you went to go wait by the door. Devon took twenty minutes longer than you, and the drive over was filled with idiots on the road, but eventually you and Devon begrudgingly walked behind Ryan into the frat house.

Crappy music was blaring, bodies were swaying, and alcohol was flowing.

Sweet heaven almighty, you could almost _taste_ the hormones in the air.

Your eyes narrowed and you frowned as you briefly debated about going back to the car, not wanting to deal with so many alcohol, and maybe even drug, addled people. But you decided you made it this far, might as well go all the way, what did you have to lose?

Devon immediately hooked his arm around yours as you both dodge around the crowd, Ryan already lost within it (which was amazing because the dude was just over six feet), to find a semi-quiet spot. You both decided on the living room where a game of beer pong was being played. Together you sat by the fireplace, thankful that it wasn’t on and that is was clear of both  trash and people.

It took around five minutes of watching uncoordinated drunkards trying to toss a ball in a cup before someone offered you a drink and an eye wiggle.

Thankfully they left you alone after your first denial. Either those PSA’s lied or you were just lucky, but you never were pressured into drinking or doing drugs. The only thing people tried to push you for was sex, and you weren’t afraid to give those types of people you’re two cents.

Devon sighed heavily, as the intoxicated man finally left you alone, pulled out a rubber band bound packet of note-cards from his hoodie jacket and handed you to them.

You huffed out a small laugh at what you guessed was vocabulary for one of his classes. Understanding what he wanted, and not wanting to drink and mingle, you began quizzing your friend. This gained you both some odd looks, but no one did anything about it. It was actually rather peaceful, once you got used to ignoring the noise.

It was after someone belly flopped on the beer pong table, over an hour later, breaking it that the people around you began a game of truth or dare. You thought it was all rather juvenile of them, but then again you didn’t make a habit of going to parties, so maybe this was a normal frat party activity.

You and Devon both tried your best not to sneer in disgust at some of the dares, not wanting to catch the eye of a short tempered drunk looking for a fight. But, honestly, some of those dares were just….. did they seriously have _no_ shame? There was a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and you should know seeing as you frequently flirted with that line. Besides, you were certain some of the things they were doing was illegal in several states.

The two of you continued to ignore the idiotic people close to you, hoping that no one would include you in someone’s dare, when you heard Ryan’s name being called. Devon and yourself looked over to see what your taller friend was doing.

A girl you didn’t know was giggling and hanging off Ryan’s arm, who didn’t look as drunk as usually did this far into a party (aka he wasn’t passed out, stumbling, or slurring words), and was loudly daring him.

“ _R~y~a~n!_ ” The way she attempted to make her shitty, sing-song voice sound sexy made you shiver unpleasantly, “I-I dare _you_ **_*giggles*_ ** I dare you t’go to….to Drew Studios. An’ ya godda stream it too.” The girl giggled, as if she said the most amusing thing in the entire world.

Ryan grinned, a look of pure determination taking over his face as the people around him agreed with the dare, egging him to take it.

Devon paled, you sighed heavily in resignation.

You knew that look. There was no way either you or Devon were ever going to deter him, but you didn’t trust his drunk ass alone.

Devon quickly jumped to his feet, a worried look plastered on his face, and three shaky fingers in the air, “We volunteer as tribute!”

Apparently Devon didn’t either.

You sighed again and stood, slipping the flashcards into Devon’s back pocket. Guess you were going to try and keep your mildly drunk friend from dying in an abandoned studio in the middle of the woods.

Eh. You’ve done harder things before.

 _‘Besides,’_ you thought as you eyed the young alcoholics in the making, _‘this could work out for you.’_

Without pause you stepped up onto the litter ridden couch and hollered to get everyone’s attention. “HEY!”

Remarkably you got their attention _and_ no one threw anything at you.

“If Ryan’s going to do this dare,” the idiots cheered and jostled each other with their back slapping, “we’re going to need somethings so we don’t get caught, and, or, so we don’t die. And no one wants to be blamed for either of those, right?”

The people were either really drunk or really stupid to believe anything you said. Or both.

You were inclined to believe that it was probably both. Which was a good thing, seeing as they were more inclined to do as you said.

Then again, most people knew who your parents were, so maybe that motivated them?

“First, off, we need backpacks or bags, then we need gloves, at _least_ fifty dollars, maybe some masks, some food, water bottles, flashlights, and that man’s pocket knife!” You counted off each item with a raised finger then pointed with your sixth finger to a young man with an obvious lump in his pocket.

The young man blinked slowly and hesitantly pointed to himself, “Me?”

You nodded, still pointing. “Yes. You all want Ryan to get into Drew Studios, right? A knife will make it easier.” Not really. You just wanted his knife. You’ve never seen the building outside of pictures your art teacher showed the class, but you were sure that there was someway to get inside without having to pick a lock.

Nobody moved. You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms. “Well, you want a show or not? Get going!”

You stepped off the couch as the part of the crowd that wanted to see something illegal happen scrambled to gather the things you said you required, while the rest of them either tried to convince Pocket Knife Guy to hand over the knife or watched the chaos.

It was the girl who was hanging off Ryan who eventually persuaded the guy to give you the knife.

What she did to do that left you in awe and mild discomfort. That girl was either really drunk or really confident in herself, kind of inspiring, in a way.

Fiddling and got acquainted with your newly acquired weapon, which turned out to be a red Swiss Army knife with a yellow dog on it (fucking _score!_ ), you waited next to your friends. Devon, in all of his four foot ten glory, was berating and trying to get Ryan to back out of the dare.

“Come on man! It’ll be fun! Where’s your sense of adventure! Think of the _views_ dude _._ ”

It wasn’t working out so well.

Devon’s eye twitched as he gave his deadpan answer, “Left ‘em back home with Teresa.”

“Your pet spider doesn’t count, Short-stack.”

“Think of the jail time.”

“We have a kick-ass lawyer on our side if we get caught, we’ll be fine.”

The shorter one of your friends groaned and turned towards you, “[Name]! [Name], do somethin’, talk ‘im outta this craziness!”

Your shrugged as gently dragged your index finger down the largest blade of knife, unable to feel it kissing your skin, “Nah.”

Devon sputtered, you grinned.

“N-nah, ya say? Fuckin’ _nah_ ? The dude gonna get ‘imself caught or somethin’ an’ all ya can say is  _‘nah’_?” His incredulous tone of voice made your lips twitch in amusement.

Ryan laughed and slapped Devon’s back, “Two ‘gainst one, we win!”

Devon ignored him and looked at you in disbelief, waiting for your answer.

You snapped the knife back into it’s home and clenched your fist around the four inch handle. With a smile you looked at your worried friend with a small reassuring smile, “We volunteered as tribute.”

“B-but, _[Name]!_ ” Devon whines as he floundered to try to think of something that would make you convince Ryan to back out.

“B’sides,” your shrug, placing the knife into your bag, “can’t make Drunk Ryan do anything he doesn’t want to,” here said drunk young man began nodding in agreement, “might as well tag along and make sure the drunken dumb-ass doesn’t do anything _to_ illegal or off himself in some stupid way.”

Ryan kept nodding for a few more seconds before what you said hit is alcohol soaked mind, “Wha- _Hey_!”

Devon snorted, a smile fighting its way onto his still worried face.

“And you can go home, or stay in the car or something if you really don’t want to go. I’m can handle him, we won’t make you.”

Devon laughed hysterically, and sarcastically, at that.

“Yeah, no,” he finally said with a look of pure incredibility, “leave my drunk friend with zero inhibition with the friend who woulda know what danger was if it punched her in the kisser, I’mma not livin’ with that kind’a guilt, m’kay?”

Ryan swung an arm around the both of you, pulling you two into a three way hug, “Great! Now I need help coming up with a YouTube name.”

It was official then. The three of you were going to break into an abandoned animation studio from the twenties and live-stream the proof to a YouTube channel that Ryan made as you and Devon argued. All for a dare.

It was decided, with no real input from you or Devon, that the channel’s name would be _DrewStudiosLive_.

…...

Drunk Ryan wasn’t a very imaginative Ryan.

Throughout your conversation, and about fifteen minutes after, all the items you requested had be collected, plus some.

Apparently the host of the party were very generous when intoxicated.

The items were all in a pile before you, consisting of an ugly neon green drawstring bag, an old soccer duffel bag, six mismatched winter gloves in varies colours and sizes, a butt load of washcloths, some bandannas, some left over, half full, bags of chips, water bottles, a pack of canned beers, and a plastic baggie with cash (fucking _yes_ , they did it!). In lieu of a flashlight someone was smart enough, or drunk enough, to throw in a tub of glow sticks. On top of all that some smart-ass donated a small first aid and condoms with a note that said, ‘have fun b 4 u die :P’ on it.

Your rolled your eyes at the last item and threw the condoms up into the air so they fell into the crowd. You heard a few cheers at that.

Turning back to the small pile you happily divided you’re haul between the duffel, drawstring, and your own shoulder bag. You palmed the first aid kit, wondering if you should be the one to carry it, before placing it in the duffel and with the beers. Meanwhile, Ryan wrote the name of the new YouTube channel down so that people knew where to tune in, and Devon left to get the car ready, bemoaning his fate the entire time.

You and Ryan left the house with people cheering you on, wishing you luck, and throwing more glow sticks in the air, like people used to throw rice at weddings.

The laughter bubbling in your chest couldn’t be stopped, even once your were in the car and on your way to the studio. You just couldn’t believe that you got a houseful of your drunken peers to give you stuff all because you said you’d need it to complete some stupid _dare_. You continued to chuckled to yourself as you counted the money they collected. Maybe you should go out to parties with Ryan more often, who knows what you could convince people to give you if you said it was for their entertainment.

“Sooooo…..” Devon drawled, not taking his eyes off the road, “what do we need fifty dollars for? It’s not that far, so it’s not for gas.”

Snickering you answered, “We don’t _need_ it.” You waved the bag of money around, “This is merely….. a…... donation. A wish for good luck.”

Quite, then Devon snorted and briefly looked in the rear view mirror at you. “You just wanted their money, didn’tcha?”

You nodded once with a giant smile on your face,  “I just wanted their money. And the knife. Got me a pretty sweet knife. I think it has, like, ten functions, _at least_.” You looked back down at the money, the smile growing into a smirk, “They did good. Got more than fifty here. After this is over with we’re eating out someplace that’s not Jack in the Box.”

This time it was Ryan who spoke, who had been silent until now because he found the beer in the duffel. “‘ow much yo-you got there?” He ended with a burp, which he blew into the driver's face. Devon wrinkled his nose but otherwise didn’t react.

Humming happily, and placing the cash into your bag, “Almost eighty. And stop it, save those for later!”

Groaning in disappointment, Ryan tilted his head back to chug the rest of his drink before crushing the can and tossing it on the floor.

“Ei- _eighty_ bucks?” Devon threw his head back and cackled at that, then continued to grumble about how maybe the night wasn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you tell me what you think, what I should improve on and what not.
> 
> Thanks again!


	3. Mr. Udall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 'Mysterious Figure' blocks you way into the studio, is it friend or foe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all to happy with this chapter, gave me a hard time. But it's the closest I can get to what I wanted.
> 
> Thanks to everyone whose left a kudo and commented! Hope you all enjoy!

The drive to the old Drew Studio took about an hour, due to Devon getting lost several times, despite GPS. Within that time Ryan had snuck two more beers, and seemed like he was gearing up for his fourth. You had given up trying to deter him from drinking any more halfway through his second drink. The bastard could be ridiculously determined, especially when it came to his alcohol.

You and Devon had debated about how close you should park, not trusting Ryan to not somehow get the cops called on him for being a nuisance or something, but Devon didn’t want to park where the car could be traced to the break in. It was was decided to park in the city that sat about a block away from the studio.

By the time Devon parked the car day was about to break and Ryan was humming nonsense to himself and slightly swaying, but not dangerously so. Once out and walking you handed Devon the drawstring bag, seeing as Ryan confiscated the duffel and you already had your own.

It took over thirty minutes for you all to make it to the gate of the studio, because the drunk one of you three thought that a rabbit that you all walked passed was after his beer.

…….

He was beyond tipsy by the time the gate was in view.

Said gate was rusted, covered by nature, and hanging off it’s hinges, allowing you three to simply walk past it unheeded. Which was a good thing because Ryan was to uncoordinated to climb it. You began thinking that the first aid kit was going to be meant for him instead of you.

The studio was located on top of a hill that was surrounded by trees just on the edge of Redwood Regional Park. The place used to be some sort of hunting cabin, if you remembered correctly, that was bought and renovated during the Depression by Mr. Drew and his co-founder, and it used to be pretty far from civilization before the town over was built in the 1800's. Then again all of that could've been bullshit you mind made up on the spot. You mused to yourself that you’d probably check Google when you got home.

Ryan suddenly snickered and slurred horrendously, “Ja’on gonna come oud da no’ere an’ g-get us.”

Rolling his eyes Devon replied, “Oh, come on man! Don’t say that, this place is creepy ‘nough as is. I swear, Slenderman, or somethin’, ‘s gonna pop outta nowhere.”

You laughed at that, always amused at what you thought was an unreasonable fear. Even though you didn’t fear anything you understood why people feared somethings.

Fear of needles, reasonable.

Death, also reasonable.

A fictional character like Slenderman, not so much.

“That or we are _soooooo_ gonna get caught by the police.” Devon murmured as he looked down at his feet, mind full of the uneven ground, ignoring your outburst.

“ _Fffffffuck_ da police!” Ryan spat and kicked the ground, losing his balance momentarily.

“Hey,” you snapped playfully, “my dad’s a cop.”

“An’ he’s a-a good pig.” Ryan slurred and swung an arm around you. He looked seriously at your face and pointed at your nose, his eyes off focus, “You should be proud.”

You snorted, then nipped at the offending digit. Ryan yelped and yanked himself away from you.

Devon shook his head at your antics, and the irony of you being a defense attorney and a cops daughter, yet were planning a break in.  
  
After while of walking up the incline, where Ryan fell down only once, causing Devon to throw out a pun about having a nice fall, and stumbled thrice, the three of you suddenly  noticed a figure standing next to a running truck a good distance in front of the old studio. The headlights illuminated the back of the mystery person, and you could easily make out that the mystery person was rubbing the back of their neck as he stared at the building.

Devon paused as soon as the person was noticed and grabbed the sleeve of Ryan’s shirt to stop him while you stood on the other side of your drunken friend.  
  
“Oh, man. Oh, _man_ . We dead. We should just turn ‘round now.” You heard Devon mumble as he backed up a couple steps.   
  
Ryan narrowed his eyes and leaned forward slightly, almost falling over, “Wait…that car... is that….”   
  
You frowned thoughtfully and walked forward a bit to get a better look. That truck did look remarkably familiar, hell, that license plate border looked like a _very_ familiar, one of a kind border a classmate of yours made for a beloved teacher. You broke out into a grin.

You continued walking forth, Ryan stumbling after you, and Devon momentarily stayed  in place as he voiced your name with a strangled yelp before he, too, followed you. After a few steps you cupped your hands over you mouth and hollered.

“Hey! Professor!”   
  
The figured startled and seemed to drop a piece of paper, which he ignored as he, for he was a he, spun around. 

“[Name]!” The Professor's voice was layered with disbelief, his eyes wide with his shock, and a hand pressed to his chest.

You just grinned, waved, and walked faster.

“Don’t do that, you just about scared this old man to his grave.” The older man closed his eyes as he leaned heavily against his vehicle, and sighed.

“Ah, don’t be like that, Professor,” you chuckled and bent down to pick up the fallen paper, “I doubt little old me will be the one to off you.”

As you handed the paper, old, yellowing, and fragile looking back to your professor you couldn’t help but notice his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What are you doing here, [Name]?”   
  
Giving your best, cheekiest grin, you answered truthfully, “My friend Ryan was dared, and Devon and I didn’t want him to be stupid alone.”  
  
Narrows eyes darted behind you, where your friends now awkwardly stood,  “Dared to do _what_ , exactly?”  
  
Devon stuttered and looked everywhere but at the Professor, fearfully of being caught by a staff member, of all things, from school and maybe _actual_ go to jail for trespassing or something. He feared this would get you all kicked out of a good school and add another thing to the list of reasons that made him inadequate in his parent’s minds. Briefly, the young man contemplated throwing himself down the hill to get out of the situation you all found yourselves in.

Ryan rolled his eyes, pointed over your shoulder at the building in sullenly silence, crossed his arms, and then pouted, not happy that he was stopped while he was _so close_ to completing his dare. The alcohol was so effective at clouding his mind that he couldn’t compute the danger that the dare he was so adamant on doing had put your all in.

You face relaxed into a pleasant smile, fearing nothing as you looked at your favourite professor.  
  
The professor pinched the bridge of his nose at your look, and tilted his head to the ground, “And what, pray tell, will happen if your friend doesn’t go through with this dare?”  
  
“Oh, utter humiliation of course!”

“Do ya haveta act so happy ‘bout the situation?” Devon groaned and looked up at the sky, as if praying for some kind of spiritual intervention.

You felt Ryan lean forward on your shoulder. His own, slightly out of focus, eyes narrowed in a glare, “Whad are _you_ doin’ here, Mist’r?”

The professor looked up, and frowned, “Are you drunk?"  
  
“No, ’m Ryan, thought we said that.”

You snorted, Devon buried his face in his hands and grumbled to himself.

“You know why we’re here, Professor, and I doubt you're here for the same reason.”

The older man obviously tried to stop the smile that was creeping across his face, but he was unsuccessful. The small smile turned to a contemplative frown as he looked down at the slip of paper, “An old friend back from my animation days wants me to see something.”

Your eyes drifted to what must've been a letter, an old one too. You frowned, “Hey, Professor?” you started slowly, “how long have you had that, it looks like you’ve had since the war.”

“That’s the kicker, I got this a couple days ago.”

“What, the guy doesn’t have anything newer?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen Joey in almost seventy years…..” The guy trailed off, as if he wanted to say more.

You blinked slowly at that, not at the amount of years but at putting two and two together. And old friend who your professor hasn’t seen for sixty years who wants to meet him at his old, seemingly abandoned, studio? Based on the stories your professor loved to tell in class you could only come to one conclusion.

“What does Mr. Drew want to show you after all these years?"

He shrugged, “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

You didn’t like this. From what the professor said, Mr. Drew and himself didn’t part on good terms. _At all_. Sure, old age and time passing could of cooled off Drew’s temper, but the way the professor described his old friend made it seem like the guy could hold a grudge. And you knew, through some of the accounts about your parents jobs, that grudges held for so long didn’t end well. There was also one other thing that was bothering you, and you had to ask.

“Is Mr. Drew even, you know….. _alive_?"

Your professor looked back at the letter, a look of utter sorrow etched onto his face, and you kind of regretted even asking. But that letter could of been in the mail for years, based on how old it was.

Ryan, still leaning on you, snickered, “‘course he’s alive, dead men don’t send no le-ledders.”

You ignored him, and his breath, and tried to change the subject, “Well, think Old Drew will mind if you have some tag-alongs? We can say it’s for my midterm, or that we’re your grandkids.”

That wiped the sorrow almost completely from his face, though it still lingered in his eyes, and he gave you a look of pure exasperation, “You haven't started it, have you.”  
  
You grinned. Exasperation was better then sadness.  
  
He just stared at you three. Devon shifted nervously behind you, Ryan swaying slightly, and you just smiling away. Finally, after a handful of seconds, he sighed, turned to turn off his truck, and beckoned you to follow him to the building, “I guess we're all going in then.”

Ryan whooped, and threw his hands in the air. Devon heaved a sigh of pure relief, and you skipped after your teacher, “You’re awesome Mr. Udall, a real life saver!”  
  
“Yeah yeah, you brats. Come on.”

"See, this is why you're my favourite. I told you guy he was awesome."

You just couldn't stop smiling. You were making sure that your drunk friend was completing his dare, you got to help support the best art teacher you've ever had, look around a piece of history, and you got some cash and a knife out of the who thing. 

It was turning out to be a pretty awesome night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Joey says it been thirty years, and yet Henry says its been longer? Whaaaaat? :)
> 
>  
> 
> Let’s say Ryan sprung the party idea on you around 9pm, left around 10pm, you all arrived around 10:30. You stayed until 5. That's seven fucking hours at a party you didn’t even want to be at, and you spent that time helping Devon studying and what not. 
> 
> You are a true friend. 
> 
> Just realized, I don’t think your butt would even get numb for sitting for so long, at least you shouldn’t be able to feel it. Perks. 
> 
> Anyways, you guy leave for the Studio around 5-5:15, drive takes roughly 30 minutes (according to Google map, and if there is no construction), but Devon get’s lost and you have to decide where to park, so that’s about 1 hour. Park around 6:05 or so, then walk 30-45 minutes. So, with that in mind, let’s say that you guys get to the studio by 6:50. This website: https://www.timeanddate.com/astronomy/usa/oakland says that the sun rises in California by 6:43, so day breaks basically as you lay eyes on the studio.
> 
> I did math for this......


	4. Cutout and Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're in the studio, but where'd your shadow go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s pretend that the rooms are slightly darker then they are in the game. Okay? Good. Great. Fantastic. Thanks for participating.
> 
> And I don't think I mentioned this before, but you parents, in an effort to install reflexes in you (because without fear you don't flinch) they put in into martial arts. That will be briefly mentioned this chapter.
> 
> Remember that my other Bendy story, "The Life and Times of Henry" is connected to this one. It follows Henry's life (of course) and will either explain somethings that are hinted at in this story or cause more confusion. You know, like Henry's age. 
> 
> Hint. If you do the math the year this story takes place is 2017. 
> 
> Warning, most of this was written on my phone..... and my phone's a dick.
> 
> Enjoy!

You stood behind Mr. Udall as he knocked on the discolored wooden door, rocking on your feet as the seconds ticked by. Your drunken friend was still leaning heavily on you and was talking to the stream that he now had up and running on his phone. Devon shifted nervously every now and then off to your left, his shoulder lightly brushing yours, which you figured comforted him so you didn’t mind.

Ryan quickly grew impatient with the wait, though, and reached around your professor to twist the door handle.

The door easily swung soundlessly inward. Which you thought was odd for something as ancient as it was. Perhaps, despite the outward state of the building, the rest of the building was were being maintained and the doors were being well oiled.

That vague thought was dashed as soon as the door fully opened and the four of you were instantly hit with the smell of _old._

Old wood. Old books. Old air. Just…. just _old_ everything.

You whistled as you peered around, then walked passed, Mr. Udall, who didn’t move an inch from the doorway, the poor guy was just staring in disbelief at his old studio, your friends following behind you, “Looks like a fixer upper.”  
  
“Huh.” Ryan moved his phone around so it could take in the details of posters in the dimly lit  hallway as he said a very sarcastic, “Welcoming.”  
  
“A little too welcomin’, I say.” Devon frowned at a dark liquid that was dripping from ceiling to floor, “Would it kill them to mop up?” 

You got closer the the dripping substance and was finally hit by its smell. Your reared back. It was ink, a lot of ink. “Oh, god. Is this a hazmat suit situation, Mr. Udall?”

The professor was at your back now, his face concerned as he, too, realized what you did.

“I….. I think everything should be fine. There seems to be enough ventilation that the fumes _shouldn't_ bother us but…...” The older man sighed regretfully and shook his head, “I don’t know what Joey was thinking, but I’m not going any further then this hallway, we don’t need to risk us getting sick. Let’s go.”

Ryan began to whine in protest, he was up to almost twenty viewers on his stream, a record for him, “Awww, but Mr. Uda-”

“No, Ryan.” You tone of voice pierced through Ryan’s drunken state of mind. It was one you didn’t use often, but always meant that one should listen to what you had to say, and listen well. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still reluctant to go so soon.

“‘sides,” Devon chipped in, more then happy to go home and sleep, “the dare only said ya hadta go _to_ the studio, not in it. Ya already did more then ya hadta. An’ I’m tired, we’ve been up for, like, twenty-fours hours.”

Ryan sighed dramatically, fumbled to end his stream, and walked back to the door, where Mr. Udall was waiting patiently for you all to come to your decision. The guy turned towards the entrance then froze.

“Did… did any of you hear the door close?”

Devon stiffened, you gained a thoughtful look as you looked back at the past few minutes, and Ryan slowly shook his head.

“Y-ya mean ya didn’t shut it?”

Mr. Udall shook his head in the negative.

With an eye roll you strolled towards the door and twisted the handle again and pulled.

…….

Nothing happened. The door didn’t even budge.

You blinked rapidly twice and tried again.

…….

Then _again_.

You glared at the doorknob, as if it’s very existence offended you. “What in Sam heck?”

You applied some pressure with your shoulder to try to get the blasted thing to give as you turned the handle again. It didn’t make any sense to you for the door to be locked from the inside and not the outside, so it had to be stuck somehow. Maybe the ink made the wood swell or something.

Mr. Udall came up to your left and began to push with you, Devon during the same next to him.

And still the ancient, yellowing, wooden door would. Not. _Budge_.

You growled and slammed your hand on the wall next to you before you stepped back. Mr. Udall took over trying to get the door open, with Devon pushing against it.  
  
“.......Sooooo…..” Ryan slurred voice made you look back to see him holding up his phone’s camera at you all, apparently he was still streaming, “what kind o’ horror-er-er movie do ‘ou t’ink we walked in on? I’m-I’m gettin’ a…. a….. Cabi’ in the Woods feel.”

“What?” You snapped at him, not happy that the door bested you. The door that had to be over a hundred years old bested _you_ . The daughter of a cop, the girl who was currently working towards her 4th Dan black belt, and yet you _couldn’t open a fucking_ **_wooden_ ** _door whatthefuck_.

Ryan shrugged, not at all bothered by your snapping, “‘m ‘ust sayin’. Old buid-building, middle of woods, sudden-enly locked door? We in a ho’er movie, but wha’ one?”

“Oh man, this betta not be the original Cool World,” Devon bemoaned as he lightly hit his head against the door. With his head still pressed against the door he looked over at Mr. Udall, who was just staring in confusion at the handle, “if so, then ya betta watch ya back, sir.”

Mr. Udall’s attention shifted over to the young man beside him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Devon simply nodded then straightened, “The fuck we do now?”

“I could try to kick the handle off.” You volunteered, more then happy to beat the handle down.

Mr. Udall shot you a look that screamed _‘No. Don't touch my poor door, it's been through enough.'_

You tried not to pout at that, you really did.

“Well,” Your crossed your arms, distantly aware of Ryan who was slowly meandering his unstable way down the hall to the main room, “you owned the place, don’t you have a key?”

Mr. Udall rubbed the back of his neck while looking at the lock. “I do, but Joey must of changed the locks, we didn’t use barrel keys when I was around.” His brow wrinkled for a second before he turned away from the door and walked down the hall.

“We might as well go look for Joey then, just _please_ be careful.”

You bobbed your head in acknowledgment and Devon saluted. Hooking his arm around yours he lead you to Ryan, who was investigating what appeared to be three giant film reels on the wall.

“How odd,” you murmured as you walked to the main room and took in your surroundings. everything looked…. exaggerated. You’re eyes roamed the room. It was sorta like…. like….. “The entire place looks like it’s been, like, drawn.”

You briefly looked over at Devon, who was gnawing at his lip as his eyes darted around, before you questioned Mr. Udall, “What did you guys do to make the wood do that? Look like old parchment paper, I mean.”

You teacher had wandered over to the table, where a thick black book sat. Once he read the title he had to sit down in surprise, his fingers teasing the cover, as if he was contemplating opening it but was to hesitant to do so. At your question he snapped back to reality and answered, his voice soft and slightly pained.

“I don’t…... know, the place was _nothing_ like this when I left.”

You and Devon walked over to the desk in the corner, Ryan moved on to the running projector, tripping over a few chairs on his way, and Mr. Udall stood up, book tucked under his arm, an odd look on his face.

“Maybe that’s why they went outta business,” Devon hypothesized while he tried to open a the drawers in the towering dresser, only to be met with resistance, as you picked up an adorable head shot of the studio's mascot, Bendy, and debating pocketing it, “they spent too much on makin’ the place look cool an’ not on their ‘mations.”

You would never know how Mr. Udall would respond because of Ryan’s interruption.  
  
“Whoa... _sweet_!” The young man laughed at a form none of you noticed shadowed in the corner nearest the running projector, “Whad up, ma dude! Wanna party?”

The rest of you got closer, or looked over, to see who Ryan was talking to, which turned out to be a cutout of the studio's mascot.

You let go of Devon’s arm to get a better look at the cut out while he rolled his eyes, “I don’t think ya should be goin’ to anymore parties for awhile, Stretch.” He shifted, looked over the the exit, and rubbed the back of his neck, “Now com’on. We got in, got ya recording. Let’s go find this Joey so we can get outta here.”

Ryan snickered and pointed his phone at Devon’s nervous form, “Dawwww, is swombuddy bein’ a scwardey cat?”

Said ‘scaredy cat’ shot the phone an unamused look.

“Get that outta my face.”

Ryan took a step closer, still snickering as he read a few comments from the stream.

“I mean it, Barnes.” Devon’s muscles tensed, preparing to snatch the phone inching towards his face.

Mr. Udall got in between the two, exasperated, trying to keep them separate, “Now boys, this isn’t the time or place to be fighting.”

You, meanwhile, were just staring at the Bendy cutout. Something seemed off about it, like something was missing. Your eyes slowly roved up and down the cutout’s body, trying to pinpoint what was wrong with it. It seemed pretty spot on compared to the cartoon, despite the height. The pointed and curved horns were there, the cheeky grin, no neck, bow-tie gloves, shoes……

You eyes shot back up to the empty space between the bow-tie and his head, headless of the arguing starting behind you. You grabbed the cut out and pulled it forward so you could see the back, only to be met with the same things you saw from the front. You hummed slightly, confused, and yet slightly excited at you discover.

“ _Bruh…_ ..” You felt the smile twitching on you lips, excited laughter bubbled behind them, “this dude’s got no neck. That’s so _cool_ !”  
  
The three men looked back to you and almost harmoniously said, “What?”  
  
“The cutout.” You picked it up and brought it in front of the projector for better lighting, spinning it slowly as you spoke, “It has no neck, and there’s nothing on the back supporting it either.”

You waved your hand in between the head and torso, “The head is literally _floating_.”

Everyone was quiet, the only things that could be heard was the cardboard spinning upon the wooden floor and the projector.  
  
You grinned at the shocked faces, “It’s so cool! I want one.”  
  
“No. No _nononono_ , [Name], n-not cool! V-very much not cool!” Devon whimpered, his eyes darting from the cutout to the rest of room, as if he was just waiting for some unknown threat to jump out of the darkness.  
  
You pouted, proped the cutout against the wall, “Oh…… soooo….it’s _not_ good then?”  
  
Mr. Udall nodded shakily as he slowly walked over to pull you away from the cutout. You looked at it’s illuminated form reluctantly. You didn’t see what was making everyone freak out, but it’s not like that was new, and if they felt something was wrong with it then you would try to listen. No matter how much you wanted to sneak the thing into the duffel.

You glanced over to Ryan to see him squinting at the wall you left the cutout leaning against. Before you knew it the guy stumbled his way next to you and frantically waved his arms. You calmly moved out of his way to avoid being hit and stepped out of the light while eyeing your friend.

People do such odd things while drunk.

“Damn it, Stretch, get away from that thing!” Devon stomped, his eyes still darting everywhere are not settling on anything longer than a couple of seconds. You were beginning to regret  pointing out the weirdness of the cutout if it was pushing Devon into an anxiety attack.

A cool knife and some cash wasn’t worth that look on his face.

“I thin’ our sha’ows wen’ all Pe-Peter Pan on us.”

Mr. Udall frowned, wondering if he shouldn’t of caved so quickly to let you and your friends follow him in, especially the drunk one.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He pointed forward at the wall, “No shadows.”

After another eye roll you glanced over to wall, paused, then tilted your head.

He was right.

You looked over to the projector and stepped in front of it. The light _seemed_ real, it was bright and doing everything a light did, but it wasn’t making anything cast a shadow.

No. That was wrong. The surrounding chairs had shadows that flickered in time with the projector, and the projector itself and the table it was on had shadows too. Even the cardboard Bendy had one. The only things without a shadow appeared to be you and Ryan, leading you to assume the other two members in your party didn’t have one either.

Distantly you heard Devon’s strangled groan as he crouched on the floor and held his head. You didn’t see Mr. Udall look down at the book he carried, the look on his face flashing through too many emotions to name, you were to busy investigating the second interesting find of the day.

You couldn’t contain an enthusiastic grin as you began to put together just a few pieces of the giant puzzle that the studio was turning out to be. This was going to be so much fun! You couldn’t wait to explore the rest of the building for more little wonders.

To look for Joey, of course. Obviously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this chapter pissed me off. I kept repeating words like "look" and "walked over," so I tried to use similar words or phrases to spice things up, but I'm sure I missed a few. The words started blending together after awhile. Really I'm not entirely happy with it.....
> 
> I was going to post early, but then I remember that I have five projects due this week and I panicked. I have two more weeks of school before a month long break. HOPEFULLY I'll get off my ass and write, but knowing me I won't.
> 
> I can dream.
> 
> We should see some action next chapter.
> 
> References this chapter, in order.  
> 1) Gorillaz- Saturnz Barz (Spirit House) "Looks like a fixer upper." "Huh, welcoming." "A little too welcoming, I say. Would it kill them to vacuum?"  
> 2) Cabin in the Woods: Read the Wiki to try understand Drunk!Ryan's line of thought.  
> 3) Cool World, original- "The concept of the film involved a cartoon and live action human having sex and conceiving a hybrid child who visits the real world to murder the father who abandoned her." Wiki.  
> 4) Peter Pan- cause, you know.... no shadows....
> 
> I thinks that's all..... I tend to use references without realizing it.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, or if you have any ideas.
> 
> See a mistake? Please let me know! I'm lazy a hell and tend to miss things when I look over chapters. Plus I have moments where it seems like I don't know English.


End file.
